


Stamp and Carve

by Amagifu



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Reclaimed, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 04:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amagifu/pseuds/Amagifu
Summary: Accompanied by Dori, a momentary glimpse at post-BOTFA Erebor





	Stamp and Carve

The tapping of metal tools against padded work tables provided the tempo for a productive afternoon. An occasional murmur of question or comment added counterpoint to the group busy at their crafts, blended with the rich smell of new leather and beeswax, wafted over Tavia as she paused in her sewing.

“Dori, hand me that seeder stamp, would you?”

The subject of her query sat upright from his own project, trying to hide a wince as he did so. “What am I, your personal maid? And since when were you ever unable to fetch your own tools?”

Tavia looked up from under her eyebrows at the master of the tailoring workspace, who despite his guild's standing was not exempt from the banter of his apprentices or the visiting seamstress. She plastered her best innocent expression on her face. “Since the tool is next to your left hand, Master, and you happen to be closer to it than I am, and since it has been some time since you last took a break from your own work, I wanted to give you a chance to stretch your old bones.”

Loic, working at a bench across the room, tried to stifle a chuckle as Dori levelled a glare at her. “Old? Pfft. I do not tolerate that sort of sass from my siblings, and I’ll certainly not be hearing it from any of you lot. Understood?”

The warning given, he stood up and, to Tavia’s eye, tried to subtly stretch an arm overhead before grabbing the tool in question and joining her at the table. He gazed past her shoulder at the piece on the workbench for a long moment, bantering replaced by a more professional calm. Using the seeder tool as a stylus, he pointed to several sections of the leather vest’s long front panels laid out. “Good work on the knotwork along those long verticals along the center closure, the dyes and gilding will bring those details out well. See here, the curve of that neckline carving should be gently smoothed out along the left; oh, good, you have the beveling tool, work on this section before you finish stamping the upper chest area. Careful with the seed pattern on that right front panel, you’ll lose the symmetry with the left front if your attention wanders even a fraction.”

Tavia nodded her thanks for the critique, though the imp of impertinent tongues than seemed to perpetually live in Dori’s tailor shop still had a hold on her. “Thank you, Mother, I will keep an eye on that.”

He snorted as he set down the tool and went back to his own worktable, muttering something about brothers and apprentices and seamstresses being cut from similar cloth. Behind her, one of the other apprentices peeked around to see Tavia’s work and murmured, “It looks fine. I think Fíli will be quite pleased with it.”

She flashed a quick grin at him before turning her attention back to the project. Chewing absently on the tip of the beveler stamp, Tavia first spared a moment to think about the recipient of this commission. Dori’s handiwork was famed throughout Erebor, and since he tasked his apprentices to work to excrutiatingly stringent standards, he could very quickly hand down assignments of higher and higher importance. Granted, the leather tunic she was creating was not strictly Court garb, but considering that it was intended for the Crown Prince and that said Prince had personally visited the shop to place the order, she planned to pour everything creative she had into perfecting the embellishments. Tavia had practically fainted in front of everyone present when Dori handed her the assignment, and he knew that she, along with many in the Mountain, held much admiration and fancy for the Golden Lion, so an opportunity to formally craft something for Fíli meant that Mother Dori felt that her own handiwork was ready for a truly high level of exposure and scrutiny from the Royal Court.

Setting aside the beveling tool and picking up one of the tiny tooling chisels, Tavia began to carve her maker’s mark into the knotwork pattern along the front opening, wondering with a quiet little smile if Fíli was the sort who would look for such marks and thus discover which maker offered their love to him through their craft.


End file.
